


In Times of Trouble

by mdseiran



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: CottageCor, Domestic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26667433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdseiran/pseuds/mdseiran
Summary: The world changes--Cor grows older and gains scars, kings die, princes are born, lands are lost to the empire. But through it all, the cottage remains.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: CottageCor





	In Times of Trouble

He is four, and his parents are leaving him with Uncle Marcellus to celebrate their anniversary.

Uncle Marcellus doesn't live in the city centre like they do, and Cor thinks the drive is too long. He plays with his cars in the back seat. Vroom vroom, they go as they chase each other around. There are crashes and magnificent flips in the air, but then one of the cars falls underneath his father's seat and just like that, he's bored again. 

He slides down, kicks his feet against the back of his mother's chair until she gets annoyed and gives him an apple. He eats it, core and all, and turns to the window with a sigh. The streets all look the same, lined with tall buildings and bright signs, and eventually he dozes off.

When he wakes up the buildings are gone and everything is green.

"Where are we?" he asks, and his mother turns around to smile at him.

"We're in the southern district," she says. "Almost there now."

The road gets bumpier and Cor holds on tight to his seatbelt. The sunlight is dim here, blocked by all the trees. There are goosebumps on his arms and he shivers, suddenly cold. But there's a patch of sunlight ahead, and the car finally stops.

There are flowers everywhere. White daisies and big, yellow sunflowers, those he recognizes. But there are tiny blue flowers and purple ones that look like a soft, round brush, orange ones and pink ones and flowers with multiple colours. He wants to pick a few for his mother, but she takes his hand and guides him up the path that leads to the building half hidden by plants.

"This is a small house," he says, and his father laughs.

"It's called a cottage," he's told, and Cor rolls the new word around in his mouth. It still looks like a house to him, and he's about to ask what the difference is when the door opens and his uncle steps out to greet them.

"Ready for an adventure?" his uncle asks. He nods shyly and his hair is ruffled. He pats it back down while the grownups chat, and looks around the garden. There are wooden fences amongst the plants, and a shovel stuck in the earth. A wheelbarrow sits by the door, half-full of carrots, and Cor can see where they grow. He also recognizes the cabbages, but the rest is a mystery.

Someone places a hand on his shoulder and he turns around to face his mother, who tugs him into a hug. "Listen to your uncle, okay? We'll be back in a few days."

He nods against her shoulder, inhaling the smell of her perfume and swallowing back tears. His father doesn't hug him but he does squeeze his shoulder and sneak a candy bar into his hand with a wink. Then they're stepping inside the car and driving off, and Cor sniffles.

His uncle crouches down in front of him. He tugs a piece of red and white cloth out of his pocket and uses it to wipe away Cor's tears. "Are you hungry?" Cor gives a hesitant nod. "Ever had vegetables straight out of the earth before?" He shakes his head no, and Uncle Marcellus grins. "Come on then, let's see what the garden has for us today."

They eat crunchy carrots and sweet beets, juicy pears that have fallen from the trees and sour cranberries. Cor learns how to harvest cabbages, potatoes and pumpkins, and from the ones he digs up his uncle makes a filling soup. They drink it sitting on a pile of pillows in front of the fireplace, blankets tugged around them, and Cor listens as Uncle Marcellus tells him stories about the fairies in the woods. He falls asleep like that, full and smiling and happy.

* * *

He is fifteen, but he feels older.

Pain wakes him up in the morning and tucks him into bed at night. There are scars marring his torso and legs, healing but still vivid. The doctors say they will fade with time, but Cor would still see them even if they did. They're etched into his mind now, an eternal reminder of his arrogance and failure.

He doesn't bother getting up anymore, doesn't see the point. He knows his mother is worried about him, but he can't find the energy to reassure her. At least when he sleeps, he doesn't feel anything, so that's what he does. 

Time is meaningless and he loses track of it.

He wakes up one day/night and Uncle Marcellus is sitting by his bed. He's probably been there a while--there's a cup and plate on a side table and he's halfway through a book on beekeeping. Cor stays quiet and listens to the soft rustle of paper as his uncle turns the pages. Seven page turns later, his uncle says, "I think you should come stay with me for a bit. The fresh air will do you good."

One bed is as good as another, Cor thinks, and he doesn't care enough to argue. They leave the next day and Cor spends the entire ride asleep.

His uncle is content to leave him be when they arrive at the cottage. He does put a couple of books by Cor's bed ("Just in case you get bored," he explains) and makes sure Cor eats, but doesn't ask anything of him. So Cor picks up where he left off and sleeps.

But it doesn't last. Maybe it's the food or the fresh air, the sounds of the birds humming in the tree by his window or the fragrance of the roses growing on a trellis along the cottage walls. Maybe it's the quiet, the lack of expectations. Or maybe it's just because he's tired of feeling sorry for himself. Whatever it is, Cor finds himself getting out of bed one morning and drawing back the curtains to feel the warmth of the sun on his arm. It beckons him outside and he stumbles on legs that haven't done much in a while. He's exhausted just getting down the stairs but he's determined to make it all the way, holding onto furniture as he goes until he finally reaches the door. He pulls it open, takes a step, and tilts his head back.

He has to sit down then, and that's where his uncle finds him. He smiles and hands him a small basket full of fresh strawberries. Cor devours them, suddenly starving.

"I'll get started on breakfast," his uncle says, "and after that, if you feel up for it, I could use some help with weeding."

Surprisingly, he does.

* * *

He is forty-five, and he's never been this tired.

He's lost a king and a prince within the span of a few months. The sun is gone and there are daemons everywhere. Insomnia is unrecognizable, a horror movie setting. He goes by the cottage when a mission takes him to the Crown City. It's his now, left to him by his uncle, his refuge whenever he needs it. 

It stands, still, and he's grateful for that. But it's not as it was; there's damage to the roof, the garden is completely wrecked, and the surrounding forest is now a graveyard of trees.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and smells nothing but rot.

* * *

He is fifty-six.

The sun wakes him every morning, and even after a year it feels like a blessing. He gets up, stretches, and heads into his garden to see what he can find for breakfast. The crops are growing well and he grabs a couple of ripe tomatoes, some herbs. He still has eggs and cheese, enough for an omelet. Might be time to head into the city for supplies.

The power hasn't been restored to this part of Insomnia so he cooks over the fireplace. He doesn't mind, in truth. The flames keep the chill of the early morning at bay, and he can toast his bread over them while his omelet continues to cook.

The knock at the door is unexpected. There haven't been a lot of visitors since he retired, although Monica makes a point of visiting him once a month to see if he's bored of the rustic life yet. The answer is always no, but he enjoys the company. It can get lonely out here.

He pulls the frying pan away from the fire, walks to the door and opens it. The man standing on his doorstep looks worn and weary.

"Marshal," he says.

"Not anymore," Cor answers. Ignis grimaces, nods. "What brings you here?"

"It was suggested to me," and Cor bites back a smile at the tone, "that I might benefit from spending some time away from the capital."

"Monica send you, did she?" Another nod, and Cor pushes the door open wider. "Why don't you come in? I was just making breakfast."

**Author's Note:**

> Needed a break from the other fic and [mochatrope](https://twitter.com/mochatrope) and [mooglecharm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/mooglecharm) have been demanding CottageCor fic so here we are I guess? >.>


End file.
